Fictionista Workshop: Witfit Prompts June
by neuroticris
Summary: A novela based off of the WitFit Prompts from the Fictionista Workshop. Bella is a single mom in the middle of a divorce. In the ruins of her marriage she tries to find herself again. E/B
1. Prompt: Heaven

**BPOV**

"Our father who art in heaven..."

I listen to my mother say the Lord's Prayer, studiously trying to stop my mind from wandering. She'd asked me to accompany her to church today in hopes of guilting me into keeping my marriage from falling apart, though she'd never say those words. I knew that it hurt her and my father to see my marriage crumble into pieces through the past couple of years but there's nothing they or God can do to keep Jacob and I together.

I guess as with all other things, the destruction of a marriage not only affects the people in it but the people around it as well, particularly if it involves a child.

Our son, Ben is only six so he's yet to understand the impact of what is happening around him but I know that he suspects that his world is about to change. I wish that I could spare him the hurt, wrap him up in the warm comforter of my love and shield him from the confusion and chaos going on around him.

I wish someone could do the same for me.

"...thy kingdom come..."

I surreptitiously peek between my clasped hands and am thankfully met by empty pews, although the image of the sad Virgin gazing upon the Church with sorrowful eyes is enough to make me shut mine again. I'm unable to shake the irrational feeling that She's judging me. I try to tamp down the urge to yell, "It _takes two to tango! Jacob's just as guilty too!_" Instead, I purse my lips and try to focus on trying to pray.

Finally, I feel my mother shift beside me as she moves to sit back onto her seat. I hastily cross myself, pretending to have completed my prayers, as I sit beside her.

"I hope you had a good confession, Bella," my mother says as she gently pats my thigh.

"Yeah, yes I did." I lie. In a church. I'm going straight to hell. She doesn't need to know that while she was pouring out her misdemeanours of the week to Father Flannery, I was sitting out in the nave checking my Blackberry.

"Well," she breathes, putting her coat on, "we better head home. I've got to make dinner and we still need to stop at the supermarket."

"Sure mom. No problem," I reply like the dutiful daughter I am.

In the car, I fiddle with the radio, tuning it to the easy listening station. I know my mother doesn't like my taste in music, hence the fussing. Unfortunately, easy listening tunes seem to invite unwanted conversation. I curse the fact that I'm trapped in a moving vehicle with my mother. Would it be too crazy to unbuckle my seatbelt and jump out?

"So have you spoken to Jacob recently?" She asks and I cringe. _Spoken_ seems like such a euphemism for what we do. Communication between my soon to be ex-husband and I only seem to have two volumes – loud and louder. I guess that's expected coming from two people who think talking is akin to a competition. That's what you get when you pair two lawyers together.

Jacob and I met when I came home after graduation and began working for McMaster and Associates. He was a junior associate who became my mentor. He was funny and confident and was a bit of a daredevil. He'd grown up on the reservation near Port Angeles and had moved to Seattle for college. Our romance hadn't been instantaneous. I was focused on my work and on proving myself. I didn't realize that he'd had feelings for me until the night he'd kissed me.

I'd been helping him on a slander case and we'd been working late. It seemed corny and cheesy and straight out of a movie when I dropped some papers on the floor and as I bent down to pick them up, so did he and we ended up knocking heads. A mutual "shit" erupted from both of us before we burst out laughing. His laughter died down causing me to look at him. I caught his eye and that was when I realized that there was something special in the way he looked at me. He leaned over and brushed his lips against mine and as they say, the rest is history.

"Do you think your Dad and Ben will be back yet?" My mother asked, interrupting my little trip down memory lane.

"I'm not sure," I reply. "It's only eleven thirty, unless Ben has been whining, I doubt they'll be back earlier than one."

I see the corner of my mom's lips twitch in amusement. "I remember when you were Ben's age. You loved going fishing with your dad. I remember you catching that small fry that one time...you were so proud."

I smile, trying to share her memory. "I wish I could remember that. The only thing I remember ever catching was a cold." We both chuckle.

"Oh Bella. You were always such a tough little kid. Always working hard. Always trying to show me and your Dad that you could do it," she turns to me then. "You know, you didn't have to try. We always knew you could."

Her voice sounds like she's trying to tell me something but when I look over at her she's looking out the window at the buildings whizzing by.

By the time we finish shopping it's almost one o'clock and I'm starving. We stop by a drive-thru and grab a couple of burgers and fries to take home. Time passes by quickly as we prep dinner – she's making the tomato sauce while I roll the meatballs. By the time my father and my son come home, the water is boiling for the pasta and the house smells like an Italian restaurant.

"It smells great in here," my father greets as he steps into the kitchen, placing a little cooler on the counter by the sink.

"Hey kiddo," he gives my shoulders a squeeze dropping a kiss on the top of my head before moving to kiss my mother.

"Hi Daddy," I pipe up, feeling like I'm eight years old all over again. I almost want to ask him what he brought home for me.

"Benji here caught a two-footer," my father says proudly and I look over at my son who's just made his way in beaming at his grandfather's pride.

"You should have seen it, Mom!" He exclaims his eyes as big as saucers. "I thought the fish was going to rip my arm off!"

I sidle up to my little boy and do a funny little hug, keeping my meatball-covered hands away from him.

"Well, I'm glad you came back in one-piece," I joke. "You did good baby. Now we have dinner for tomorrow night." I feel my heart swell when my little guy flashes me his pearly whites. His smile is like sunshine and birthday cakes all rolled into one.

"Now go get cleaned up," my mom exclaims. "You too, Charlie. You both smell like fish."

"That's because we were _fishing_, Grandma," Ben rolls his eyes.

"Don't be such a smart-alec," my mom admonishes. "Go get cleaned up so we can eat dinner."

I watch my son scamper out of the kitchen, hearing his hurried footsteps across the hardwood floor.

"Take a bath, Ben," I yell after him. "And you better scrub up. I don't want you to just play in the water. You better smell like soap when you come out!"

I shake my head and smile as I wash my hands. "Thanks for taking him out today, Dad."

My dad stops at the doorway, turning back to face me. "You don't ever have to thank me, Bells. I love that kid."

I nod and he leaves following my son and getting cleaned up.

Dinner feels familiar and comfortable. We laugh as Ben tells us about his and Grandpa's river adventures.

I look at the people that surround me and I know that everyone that I love and matter is right here. Once upon a time, I would have said that the picture was incomplete but I know that it's not true any more. Acceptance comes with a heavy dose of heartbreak.

I tuck my son into bed and wish him good night. I pad softly down the hallway, making my way to the living room where my dad sits in his Lay-z-boy watching ballgame highlights on TV.

"I hope he wasn't too much of a handful today," I say taking a seat on the couch and tucking my legs beneath me.

My dad takes his eyes off of the TV for a moment. The corner of lips tuck up beneath his graying moustache. "It was fun. Hell, that kid is like a big ball of energy. I was afraid he'd be bored but boy was I wrong. He kept telling me all these facts about trout and salmon," my father laughed.

I smile knowingly. Ben is like a sponge. He's pretty tenacious when something grabs his attention. Lately it's been facts about aquatic animals. As a by-product, my mind is filled with all sorts of trivia about fish. Unfortunately, unless I decide to become a marine biologist or appear on Jeopardy, it really doesn't do me much good.

"Yeah, he loves the _Life_ series on the Discovery Channel. I don't know how he remembers all those facts though. Must be great to have the memory of a six year old," I joke.

The conversation dies down and the silence is filled by the news announcer on TV.

"Thanks, Dad," I say, keeping my eyes trained on the screen. My father and I are the same when it comes to emotions. We like to keep it bottled up and feel discomfort with sharing it.

"No problem, Bells. Anytime," he replies, taking a sip of his beer.

"I mean it, Dad. Thanks for everything. For letting us stay here," I continue.

I hear him place his beer down on the side table and sit up on his recliner. "This is your home too, Bella. You and Ben can stay here any time for as long as you need to."

I look over at him and smile. We make eye contact and I can see the understanding and the love in his eyes. And just as soon as it began, it was over. We both settled back into our seats and proceeded to watch the news. Soon enough, eleven o'clock rolled around and it was time for bed. I got up from the couch and touched my father's shoulder, bidding him good night.

I passed my mom in the kitchen letting her know I was headed to bed before making my way up the stairs.

There is something humbling about being back in my childhood bedroom. Despite the fact that I was thirty five, being back in my old room and sleeping in my old bed made me feel like I was fifteen again. I could almost see the New Kids on the Block posters on the wall as my boombox pumped out _The Right Stuff_.

I guess there's really something to be said about a parent's love. I'm sure that at their age, neither of my parents expected to be supporting their thirty-five year old daughter, let alone their grandchild. But yet, here they were doing exactly that.

I really hope to give Ben the same support should he ever find himself in my shoes. Although I really hope he doesn't. No one deserves to go through the hurt and anger that you experience from a divorce or the utter feeling of failure it evokes.

I guess out of all the things to feel – it's failure that stings the most. I've never failed at anything in my life. Not in school and not at work. So this...divorce is a tough pill to swallow.

As I get myself ready for bed, I think that perhaps divorce is like medicine and medicine never _tasted_ good, but it was always good _for_ you. Maybe this separation will be good for us in the end. I guess until then I just have to grimace and bear it – maybe wash it down with distraction. It worked for me before. Maybe it'll work again.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **Twilight and all its characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. Little Ben is my creation. This story is a work of fiction and any similarity to real life is purely coincidence.

**June 1 prompt: **Heaven


	2. Prompt: Cloud

Monday morning rolls in bright and early. I end up sleeping in. By the time I wake up, I barely have time to get Ben ready before I have to drive him to school. When I get back home, I jump in the shower and get myself dressed for my interview. I stare at myself in the mirror as I smooth down my navy blue skirt suit, pulling my hair into a quick French twist. Navy is supposed to be the 'power' color. Lord knows I can use all the help I can get today. Maybe I shouldn't pour all of my hope into this meeting, since it's only my second one, but I can't help myself. I really need this job. I need to get back onto my own two feet. After all, I've got a child to support.

I can't help but be nervous about the interview. It sucks but I know that I'll be competing with new graduates despite the fact that I'm at least eight years their senior. My absence from the job market puts me on the same playing field as kids who just a few months before were writing their Bar exam.

I sigh, deciding my appearance was as good as it was going to get.

Quitting my job had been one of the hardest decisions I had to make. When Jacob and I found out that we were pregnant, I was determined to keep working until my due date. I figured that I could conquer the domestic trifecta – be an attentive wife, a wonderful mother, and still manage a successful career. However, once Ben was born, I soon realized that something had to give. I didn't want Ben to be raised by strangers and so I decided to resign from the law firm.

Jacob had been supportive of my career move but then looking back, I realized that keeping my job had been more of a burden on him than my choice to stay at home and raise our son. Since he was secure in the knowledge that our son was safe and cared for, he was able to work the long hours that the firm asked of him. In no time at all, he was being considered for partnership. At the time I'd been happy for him. His success was my success. His happiness was my happiness. I was devoted to him and our family. At least it had been enough for me back then.

But not any more.

For too long I've stayed back. For too long I've taken care of everyone else. I don't want my son to ever think that his mother was a meek woman. I want him to know that his mother was strong and that she was not a quitter. The only way I can do that is to take back my life.

A half hour later, I was pulling into a parking space downtown. I hustled down the sidewalk peeking at the Post-It on my hand as I gazed at the addresses on the buildings. By the time I reach the offices of McCarty Greene LLP, I have five minutes to spare. As I step off the elevator, I'm greeted by a set of glass doors emblazoned with the company's logo. I approach the receptionist to let her know that I'm here for my interview. I take my seat and try not to feel intimidated by the other three people sitting around me who I'm sure are also here to be interviewed. They're young and they look eager. Despite the mental peptalk I gave myself on the way here, I can't help but feel old and inadequate next to them.

"Mrs. Black?" A curly-haired brunette calls my name causing me to look up. "If you could follow me. They're ready for you now. Right this way, please."

I pick up my leather satchel as I stand up and follow her. "It's Swan actually," I say.

"Hmmnnn..." She's walking pretty fast in those heels. I stumble slightly trying to keep up with her. "What's a swan?"

"My name," I clarify. "It's Ms. Swan not Black."

"Okay," she replies but I can tell she doesn't really care. Soon enough we round the corner and the wall to my right becomes glass and I realize that behind it is a meeting room. I eye the room from the corner of my eye, mentally preparing myself for the gauntlet of questions I'm sure I'll be asked.

My little brunette tour guide pushes the door open and I follow along behind her. She leaves and I'm left alone with my interviewers.

"Good morning. I'm Shelley Cope, senior partner," a well-dressed, middle-aged woman greets. Standing up, she gestures to the older man sitting beside her before reaching out to shake my hand. "And this is Tom McCarty, another senior partner. You must be Isabella Black."

I take her proffered hand, giving it a firm shake. "Pleasure to meet you Ms. Cope, Mr. McCarty," I shake Mr. McCarty's hand before taking the open seat across from them.

"I'm sorry," a breathless voice interrupts, causing us to look over at the door. "I had to take that call. Mr. Goldman waits for no one. You know how that goes..."

I'm arrested by the sight that greets me as I swivel my chair around to face the interloper.

He's a little older, perhaps a few more wrinkles around the eyes but it was still the brilliant shade of moss green that I remembered. He wore his hair on the shorter side but it remained the unruly, bronze locks that I used to run my fingers through.

He looked taller; his shoulders broader, his charcoal grey suit accentuated his lean and muscular frame. The years had been kind to him.

I watch his eyes zero in on me, at first narrowing before recognition seemed to dawn as he raised an eyebrow in question.

"Ah, Edward. This is Isabella Black," Mr. McCarty introduces me. "Mrs. Black this is Edward Cullen one of our new partners."

"It's Swan actually," I rectify. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cullen," I reach out and shake Edward's hand hoping he'd play along.

"Hello, Ms...Swan," he replies, the corner of his lip rising into a knowing smile.

"Our apologies, Ms. Swan," Ms. Cope interjects. "But your CV states Black."

I smile politely. "It's not a problem. I just recently changed back to my maiden name. Black is my husband's...er...my ex-husband's name."

I studiously avoid Edward's gaze which I can feel burning a hole in me.

"Alright, let's get started." Ms. Cope shuffles the papers in front of her.

They ask me their questions in tandem and by the end of the interview the nervousness I felt has not abated.

Just before we conclude the interview, Edward clears his throat, "I couldn't fail to notice that you've been absent from the industry for the past five years. Do you mind if I ask why?"

I smile trying to mask the discomfort I feel. I'm afraid to answer knowing that they are judging me.

"Oh, well...it was a tough decision but I decided to stay at home and raise my son."

Ms. Cope smiles in understanding. "Good for you, Isabella. I know sometimes I wish I could have made the same decision. I'd missed so much of my kids growing up."

"Thank you," I reply. I feel my cheeks warm in embarrassment at the compliment.

They give me the typical spiel about letting me know once they've come to a decision and when I shake their hands, I'm hoping like hell that I had been enough. I stand and try not to wobble on my feet as I leave the room and head to the lobby. Seeing Edward had really thrown me off my game. I hadn't seen him since he graduated Cornell. I wonder what he's doing in Seattle. Last I heard he was quite a bit of a shark in Chicago. I chewed my lip nervously as I exited the offices and took the elevator down.

Edward and I had parted on good terms. We'd been great friends throughout law school. We'd met when we were partnered up in a Dispute Resolution course. We became study buddies often arguing opposite point of views. We were both argumentative and stubborn, yet we got along swimmingly. More often than not our study sessions would evolve to debates and conversations and we talked more than studied. As the years passed, Edward became a good friend. He was funny and fun and was great at providing the male point of view when it came to the college dating world. I would be negligent not to admit that I was attracted to him. I mean who wouldn't be. He was easy to get along with, smart, and gorgeous. Plus he had the gift of gab and could argue anyone in circles.

We'd been studying for mid-terms when he suggested that we end for the night since the library was about to close. It was cold and the holidays were approaching. I remember that he drove me to the apartment I shared with my roommate. We'd been singing along (although it was more screaming) to Chumbawamba. My sides hurt from laughing so hard at Edward's impression. He looked so serious singing about whiskey and vodka drinks that I couldn't help but guffaw. However, when we pulled up to my building and he'd looked at me with that crooked smile, my laughter died down and my stomach twisted in knots. And when he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine, I was a goner.

I'm almost embarrassed to say that I gave it up that night. It wasn't even a date, yet Edward and I fell into bed easily and the fact that it had been my first time made it all that memorable. When he found out that he was my first, he was taken aback and his tenderness surprised me. From what I knew of him and his reputation around campus, I'd expected him to go hard and fast. So for him to be soft and slow was…well, it changed the way I thought of him. This new Edward was amazing.

The rest of the year flew by and soon enough Edward was graduating. We'd talked about it and came to the conclusion that it was best we part ways since he was going back home to Chicago and I still had another year of school to go. Neither of us had mentioned the L-word so it was presumptuous for either of us to assume the extent of our feelings for one another. It was best to just leave the relationship for what it was. Fun and exciting and it had run its course. We were young but we weren't stupid enough to think that it was serious. Yet, that fall when I went back to school and Edward had been properly settled in Chicago, I couldn't help but think of him. I wasn't in the mood to date anybody and chose to focus my energy on my studies instead. Plus I also had an internship to think about. Keeping busy saved me from focusing on my personal life.

As the months passed, Edward and I exchanged fewer emails and phone calls until I graduated and it ended altogether. Life just went on.

* * *

By the time I get home, the clouds had moved in making the day seem later than it really was. I still had a few more hours before I had to pick Ben up from school and I didn't know what to do with myself. My father was at work and so was my mother. I had the house all to myself. I decided to clean out the fridge, getting on my hands and knees and scrubbing out the vegetable crisper. Just as I was about to dismantle the racks, I heard my cell phone ringing in the living room.

I grabbed the phone slightly breathless from my sprint. "Hello?"

"Bella, it's Jacob."

My jaw clenched and I'm sure my teeth made chopping sounds from the tenseness I felt in my muscles.

"Hi…," I said and an awkward silence followed. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," he replied automatically. "Why does something have to be going on for me to call you?"

"Because, Jake..."

"Can't I call my wife to see how she is?" He asks and I pull my phone away to stare at it incredulously. Is he kidding me with this?

I sigh. "We're separated. We're getting a divorce. I'm no longer your wife. There's nothing we need to talk about unless it involves the proceedings or Ben," I explained.

"Bella…"

"Jake…," I mock. I don't know what it is about speaking to him lately that brings out the bitch in me.

"Why are you being so callous?" He asks, his voice rising a little. "You know I'm not for this divorce. I'm trying to work it out with you, Bella."

"There's nothing to work out. What's done is done," I say with finality. It hurts my heart but the words must be spoken.

"We can try counselling again. I thought we made some lee-way last time," he says and I can hear the tinge of hope in his voice.

I hate having to be the bad guy. God, why must I be put in this position?

"You were seeing someone, Jake. You broke this marriage way before I did."

I can hear him fussing around on the phone. "Again with this? Nothing happened, Isabella. She was a client, nothing more!"

"Stop lying to me and yourself!" I yell into the phone. I feel like I've just run a marathon. My heart is hammering in my chest.

"We can't keep beating this dead horse, Jacob," I sigh, trying to calm down. "We both have to let go."

"Why do you always paint me to be the bad guy, Bella?" He asks. "I wasn't the one who pulled away. I was the one who kept trying to work it out."

He's right but I don't tell him that. I don't want to give him the satisfaction. I know the collapse or our marriage falls on the both of us. We're both at fault. Equally.

"I have to go. I have to pick Ben up in half an hour," I state.

He pauses and I hear him sigh. "Tell Benji I love him and that I miss him. I'll see him soon."

"Okay," I reply before hanging up. Despite our differences and our issues, Jacob loves Ben. There is no doubt about that. I just hope that our son doesn't become a casualty in this little battle Jacob and I are waging.

* * *

**June 3 prompt: ** cloud


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